Autumn Endings
by midnightneverland
Summary: It comes full circle, one year after Chloe's death. Here, in a field of dead leaves and silent graves, is proof that she had existed. Epilogue piece for the Seasons series.


The cemetery is filled with dead leaves. They're raked away from the headstones, neat piles of brown and gold, but the breeze still swirls them past Max. She catches one and it crumbles in her fist, the pieces stabbing the flesh of her palm.

Warren hands her the small bouquet of carnations and chrysanthemums. She passes them from one hand to the other. The headstone before her is cool grey and loud in its finality. She has lost count of the times she'd visited over the past year and while she has changed, pushed through the cracks of her own grief, Chloe's headstone is unmoved and unchanging.

She kneels to place the flowers, tracing the engraving of Chloe's name. Here, in a field of dead leaves and silent graves, is proof that she had existed, had once breathed the same cool air that clouds Max's lungs. She needs to remember that. She digs her nails into the granite, feels the indentation of the letters cold against her skin.

"Damnit, Chloe. I miss you so much," she whispers and raises to unsteady feet. The breeze has chilled her, tiny pinpricks of cold against her arms. Sometimes, she still slips and forgets what season it is, but that is easy enough to do. Warren unzips his jacket and places it over her shoulders silently. She huddles into its warmth.

There are more words to say, things she has saved and repeated over and over in her mind, but now they stay tangled in her thoughts. She settles for silence and the beat of her heart, rapid and forceful against her chest.

Warren drapes an arm over her shoulder and she leans into it. He lets her stand there as long as she needs and she isn't sure how much time has passed, but it's enough for her hands to have gone numb from the cold.

"Let's go," she whispers and he lets her lead the way back to his car. Joyce is hosting a luncheon in Chloe's honor. When they arrive, a scattering of tables line the backyard, the same bunch of carnations and chrysanthemums placed on each one. She hugs Joyce and tries not to give in to tears when the older woman stifles a sob.

"I'm sorry, Max. It's these flowers. I should have just gone with pretzels or something casual like that. We're here to celebrate her, not mourn her." Max nods as she continues to fret about the decorations. She wants to say something comforting, but then she is gone, greeting the small gaggle of people that have arrived behind them.

More people trickle into the yard and Max moves from group to group, hugging people she hasn't seen in months and strangers who have passed through Chloe's life in some form or another. Then she steps back behind the crowd. She finds Warren at a table folding napkins into swans. His eyes snap towards her, studying her, before pulling out the chair beside him. "You okay?" he asks and she takes the swan from his hands, smiling softly.

"Yeah, well," she collapses into the chair and gazes at the flowers settled before her. "I'm here." It's a simple enough statement, but she's not sure she would have been able to say it a year ago. She places the swan on top of the flowers and a breeze shifts past it, tilting it to the side. The air is a gasp of cold against her face, a warning of a storm.

"Joyce should probably move the luncheon inside," she mumbles. She scans the crowd to find her already gathering plates of food and heading towards the back door. Max and Warren rush to help her, the rain finally letting go just as Max grabs the last stack of cups.

The rain wards off most of the guests and Max decides to leave with them. Crowds have always made her feel as if there is never enough air around her, as if all her breath is being stolen by each person. She has been itching for a reason to slip out and Joyce bids her goodbye with understanding eyes.

Warren tugs her through the rain as they rush to his car. It's pouring now, a sheet of white against the black asphalt. Adrenaline surges through her as the water splashes beneath her feet. He fumbles for the keys in his pocket. She stands still, arms outstretched, and tilts her head towards the water rushing to meet her face. It hits like ice against her skin and the thrumming of each drop nearly matches her heartbeat, loud and furious against her temples.

She yells out in the storm, letting the wind take her voice and carry it into the roar of the rain. The she laughs, loud and full, and burning in her chest as she rushes to the other side of the car and into its safety.

Warren digs for the extra hoodie he keeps in the backseat as the laughter slowly settles out of her. She feels light, as if the rain had washed away some of the darkness that had buried itself so deep in her bones.

He tosses the hoodie into her lap, helping her to remove the jacket that had gotten soaked in the rain. A smile tugs softly at his lips as she tugs the dry one on. He kisses her forehead, trailing his lips down her nose and onto her lips. "I'm proud of you," he murmurs and she swats his arm lightly, only for him to lift her hand to his lips and kiss that, too.

They drive into the storm which soon fades into foggy sunlight. She rests her head against the window, enjoying the warmth against the glass.

"Are you okay?' he asks, breaking the silence. She glances up to see the sunlight breaking through the trees that pass by. Breaking free.

"Yeah," she murmurs, reaching for his hand at his side and lacing their fingers together. "I think I am."


End file.
